A Father's Memory

I kept looking for the impossible, a reflection of my childhood that matched my own memory. In every question, every thought, I was laying the bait and hanging out, waiting for him to take it. He never did. His stories were chiseled down into fragments that did not resemble the original. It seems that our truths will never match. I will believe. He will believe. Forgiveness is our common ground.

Paradox

My dad is his own paradox. I am unsure if he is a great man that says and does bad things or a bad mad that says and does great things.

Important vs. Useless

"I think fathers feel important and useless at different points in their life." I've thought a lot about this statement. When a father faces layoffs or unemployment, what are the thoughts that swirl in their heads, the thoughts that leave them full off of silence at the dinner table. Or sullen faced behind the chaotic words of the newspaper. I wonder what cornered my own father into feeling useless. What made him throw his voice on every birthday and Christmas? Was Santa Clause my parents’ credit card?